Chasing Time: Janus Key Series, #1

By Thomas Reilly

Chasing Time introduces the inspirational and suspenseful Janus Key Series.

Devastated by his wife's terminal illness, retired teacher Tony Lucas

seeks to recapture a lost magical key from his youth that has the

power to predict the future and use it to unravel additional mysteries

that could save her. Racing against time as the disease extracts its

unforgiving toll, Tony embarks on an amazing quest involving a series

of unexpected plot twists, cryptic clues, and memorable characters.

Driven by a strong male lead, this heartwarming book combines

realistic medical elements with a hint of fantasy to create a

gripping, suspenseful narrative. Reilly spins a compelling tale of a

devoted husband's resilience and perseverance as he pursues a

life-saving mission that extends from Ancient Rome to modern-day

America to the olive orchards of Spain.

• Language: English
• Publisher: BDHorizons, LLC
• Release date: Apr 4, 2023
• ISBN: 9798987180440

Thomas Reilly

Thomas Reilly is a retired biotechnology scientist who holds a doctoral degree in microbiology.  He is the author of numerous essays and articles on science and technology. CHASING TIME is a story of medical suspense coupled with a hint of magical realism. His second book in the Janus Key series, TRIAL AND REDEMPTION, is scheduled for release in 2023. He lives in Wilmington, Delaware with his wife Linda.

Book preview

CHAPTER ONE

April 1, 1965

Anthony Lucas, known as Tony to his friends, squirmed in the seat of his eighth- grade classroom as he waited anxiously for the school day to end. As usual, his obsession with time had led him to play a favorite mental game, predicting the exact time remaining until the 3:00 p.m. dismissal bell sounded. Sixteen minutes after two o’clock, he noted to himself and then confirmed his prognostication by turning to witness the second hand slowly sweep past three on the large clock hanging on the front left wall, indicating a time of exactly 2:16 p.m. Forty-four minutes to go.

It had been a curious school day at St. Bridget’s Grammar School in the Bay Ridge section of Brooklyn. This was the occasion the entire school had been anticipating for several weeks, the date when, finally, the sixty-year-old time capsule would be opened and its contents revealed. The student assembly had been abuzz since last month when construction of a new gymnasium had unearthed a small copper box buried under the cornerstone of the original red-brick school building. Various rumours, ranging from plausible to fantastical, had circulated about the box’s contents. Tony’s personal favorite, which had been started by his friend, Joe Hubbard, suggested that the box contained the brains of an unidentified body that had been discovered several months ago in an abandoned building, just a mile or so from their school. A few days later, St. Bridget’s principal, Sister Mary Stella, had put an end to most of the wild speculations with an announcement over the school’s loudspeaker that the box was, in fact, a time capsule, buried there by the first graduating class of St. Bridget’s sixty years ago, in 1905. Furthermore, the school would celebrate the capsule’s discovery by holding an opening ceremony on April first of this year, exactly sixty years since its burial.

Earlier that day, Tony, along with the entire student body, had assembled in the large auditorium for the ceremony where Mr. Cato, a prominent parishioner of St. Bridget’s and whose local grocery store was the principal sponsor of the school’s little league baseball teams, had strolled onto the stage carrying the rusted, soldered, copper box. Approximately two feet long and one foot wide, it was not very remarkable in appearance. As the students watched in amazement, Mr. Cato attacked the box with a vigor that seemed more appropriate for a construction worker wielding his hammer drill than a mild-mannered store owner. The din from the pounding and sawing with hammer, chisel, and hacksaw reverberated throughout the auditorium until the lid was successfully removed.

Now was the moment of revelation; Tony silently hoped Mr. Cato would uncover something surprising inside. Slowly he pulled out the first item, a yellowed piece of crumbling newspaper. Sister Stella, who shared the stage with Mr. Cato, immediately assumed the role of narrator and announced in a booming voice that seemed totally incongruous with her small, delicate physique that it was part of the front page of The New York Times from April 1, 1905. This two-person act was repeated as Mr. Cato drew item after item from the box with Sister Stella providing a short narrative description: stamps, coins, an old black and white photograph of President Theodore Roosevelt, colored marbles, a pocketknife, a list of signatures from the 1905 eighth grade class of St. Bridget’s until the box was empty. Nothing earth- shattering there thought Tony, feeling a bit deflated after all the earlier excitement the box had generated. Sister Stella brought the ceremony to its conclusion by announcing that one lucky member of the eighth grade would be chosen that afternoon to take the box and its contents home for the night and share them with his or her family, after which the items would be returned to school for display here in the auditorium.

Back in his classroom, Tony’s thoughts had already returned to his beloved Yankees and their upcoming baseball season, which was set to start in a few weeks. He snapped to attention when his teacher, Sister Constantia, asked that everyone write their name on a sheet of paper and submit it for a drawing to determine the lucky student who would win the privilege of taking the time capsule and its contents home for the night. Tony passively completed this task and waited while Sister Constantia collected the papers, placed them in a cardboard box, and drew out one crumpled piece. Anthony Lucas, she called out.

Tony’s first reaction was surprise; he had never won any important contest in his life. He then remembered that the prize was somewhat underwhelming; why couldn’t the award be something nifty like a new car, a trip to Europe, or almost anything else? Nevertheless, he sheepishly acknowledged the applause of his classmates.

Upon the sounding of the dismissal bell, Tony ambled down to the auditorium to pick up the box and its contents and received a short, instructive lecture from Sister Stella about the proper care and treatment of the historic articles.

Remember, she declared, they are a symbol of our school’s past; treat them with the respect they deserve.

Yes, Sister.

By the time Tony exited the school building carrying his bookbag with one arm and carefully cradling the copper box in his other, all his friends had disappeared. He started the six-block walk home and soon turned onto the busy Third Avenue thoroughfare with its commercial storefronts, businesses, and overhead apartments. He approached Louise’s, his family’s favorite Italian restaurant, where they often celebrated important occasions such as birthdays, graduations, and the like. Tony noticed a cluster of large, empty cardboard boxes in front of the restaurant, lined up in a row for pickup by the sanitation truck later that afternoon. Luigi’s Virgin Olive Oil- Imported from Italy read the label on each box. In smaller print were the words: May contain up to 50% olive oil from Spain. Wow, thought Tony; they sure go through a lot of olive oil here.

Tony continued walking past the restaurant when he noted a glint of sunshine reflecting off a point in the sidewalk between two of the cartons. Bending down to examine the source of the reflected light, he observed an old, rusted, metal ring attached to an ancient-looking key with notches cut into its tip. The most remarkable feature of the key was its shaft; it was approximately five inches in length and intricately carved in the figure of a two-faced, ancient-looking man. Picking the key up to study it in more detail, he noted a set of piercing, almost life-like eyes on each face staring back at him. What a neat little souvenir, thought Tony. He dropped it in his book bag and continued home.

CHAPTER TWO

The large, three-story, white-stucco colonial stood out from the neighboring homes on the block by nature of its large front yard, unusual for this section of Brooklyn where most fronts were matchbox sized. Tony raced through the stout, oaken front door, past the narrow entranceway, and into the spacious living room whose floors were lined with authentic oriental rugs that were his mother’s pride and joy. Tony always enjoyed coming home; he viewed it as his safe and happy environment.

In an excited voice, he yelled out, I’m home; guess what I won!

As his mother joined his older sister Karen to greet him, she replied, My gracious, what’s so exciting?

I won this, he said, pointing to the rusty copper box. Well, I didn’t exactly win it. But I won the drawing at school to take it home and examine the contents with you guys. It’s a time capsule with stuff from the first class of St. Bridget’s in 1905. I have it for the night. Then I have to return it to school tomorrow.

How wonderful! his mother exclaimed. Let’s look at them tonight when your father returns from his calls.

Tony’s dad was a pediatrician who spent Thursday afternoons attending rounds at the local hospital and then driving all over Brooklyn until late evening, making house call visits to his sick patients. Following his dad’s return home a few hours later and a delicious pot roast dinner, the family assembled around the copper box, prominently displayed in the center of the living room coffee table. Despite their sixty-year-old age, most of the memorabilia in the box were well-preserved, and the family spent several minutes removing and examining the various items. The exception was the yellowed, partial front page of the April 1, 1905, New York Times. Most of the bottom half of the paper had withered away, probably due to a bit of moisture that had infiltrated the box. Eventually, Tony’s dad carefully cradled the ancient newspaper page in his steady physician hands and spoke.

Tony, this is amazing. You are providing us with an authentic piece of American history. Listen to these headlines from sixty years ago: ‘$12,600,000 Discrepancy in Gas Company’s Bonds’; ‘Alfred G. Vanderbilt Arrested for Speeding’; ‘H.H. Rogers Defends Rockefeller’s Methods’; and ‘Robbed Senator’s House-Mr. Burrows of Michigan.’

Tony asked his father. Dad, those stories hardly seem like the kind of news that make headlines. No stories about foreign countries or world events. What’s the big deal with speeding, robbing, or company bonds? That kind of stuff belongs buried inside the paper, not on the front page.

Mrs. Lucas interjected. Tony, Karen, you have to realize that back then, America was a much different country than it is today. News stories from that era tended to be much more provincial, reflecting America’s relative isolation from most world affairs. It wasn’t until World War I ended in 1918 that America started to emerge as a major player on the world stage.

Karen then asked. I know a Rockefeller is the governor of New York. Does this headline refer to the same family? And who were the Vanderbilts?

Dr. Lucas answered his daughter. The Vanderbilts and the Rockefellers were titans of American industry in the early twentieth century, specifically in railroads and oil. Any stories about those families attracted considerable attention from the public. They were like the rock stars of their day. Our governor, Nelson Rockefeller, is the grandson of John D. Rockefeller, the founder of the huge oil empire.

The Lucas family spent the next several minutes discussing the contents that had survived sixty years in a metal box and reflected on life for the average person at a time with few phones and cars and no television or computers. Finally, Tony’s parents agreed that this had been an excellent and educational evening, thanked Tony for sharing his success with the entire family, and sent the kids off to bed.

In his bedroom, Tony was changing out of his clothes into his pajamas when he remembered the key he had stored in his book bag. Retrieving the small icon, he marveled at its intricately carved details and wondered about its history. It seems so old, he thought. I bet there are some interesting stories behind it. Promising to share his discovery with his friends and family in the morning, he dropped the key into the opened copper box that was lying on the floor next to him, replaced its lid, and hopped into his bed.

Tony awoke promptly at six-forty-five the next morning. He continuously surprised his parents with his uncanny ability to anticipate the hour and wake up, unaided by any alarm, in time for any occasion or event, such as a 6:00 a.m. mass where he had been assigned to serve as an altar boy at St. Bridget’s Church. He just had a special sense about time, whether it was predicting it, anticipating it, or making the best use of it. His parents often joked that he had a passion for time.

Rushing to complete his pre-school routine of a quick hot shower, a breakfast of frosted flakes and milk, and a goodbye hug to his father as he headed off for his early hospital rounds, Tony headed back to his room for last-minute preparations. Squinting his eyes at the sunshine streaming through the window as he peeked at the outdoor thermometer, he noted an unseasonable temperature of 68° F. That’s great, he thought. It’s warm enough to wear my Yankees jacket today. He threw open his closet door and started rummaging through the hanging garments until he located the lightweight jacket among the jumble of tangled jerseys, sweatshirts, and pants. Tony grabbed the jacket and put it on.

Bending down to retrieve the rusted copper box containing the old artifacts, he suddenly remembered the ancient-looking key from last night. Removing the lid to retrieve the key, he recoiled in utter surprise as his gaze was met by two piercing red beams of lights emanating from one set of eyes on the two-faced icon. Transfixed by the penetrating stare from the icon’s face, illuminated to almost lifelike form by the beaming lights, Tony wondered if the old man was trying to communicate a message to him. Recovering from his momentary shock, he nervously cradled the key in his right hand and tried to locate any on/off switch or small battery compartment that might be the power source of the emanating lights. He found none. How strange!

Recovering from the startling episode, Tony stashed the key in his jacket pocket and examined the contents of the box to assure all was in order before returning them to school. Taking a moment to gently remove the yellowed, tattered newspaper page and read it for himself, he received his second, jolting surprise of the morning. The date printed on the top line read, April 1, 2025.

Wait a second, he thought. Yesterday the date read April 1, 1905. Today the paper is dated sixty years in the future instead of sixty years in the past! How can that be?

He then turned to read the headlines his father had recited to them last evening and again was astonished to discover none of the headings were the same. Rather, they referred to stories about events or people that were alien to him. One headline read, Former U.S. President Bill Clinton Appointed as Special Envoy to Sudan. Bill Clinton? questioned Tony as he quickly scanned the few lines of the story that were still visible in the remaining top half of the newspaper page. They briefly described the long career of the forty-second United States president, William Jefferson Clinton. Tony quietly recited to himself the last few presidents he had studied in American history. Let’s see, there was FDR, then Truman, and Eisenhower, followed by Kennedy, and now LBJ. I never heard of a President Clinton, he thought. The only Clinton I know is Robby Clinton from my class.

A second headline turned to a more familiar subject but again seemed strange and futuristic. Yankees Look to Rebound from Last Year’s Disappointing Season. What particularly caught Tony’s eye in the ensuing story was a reference to the worst collapse in Yankee history since their momentous fall from grace in the 1965 season. 1965 season? That was this year, and the season hadn’t even started yet. And how could the perennial powerhouse Yankees, who had won the last five American League pennants in a row with their formidable lineup of Mantle, Maris, Howard, and the rest, fall from grace this year? The team had unfinished business to attend to after last October’s disappointing loss to the St. Louis Cardinals in the seventh game of the World